


Mr Novak's Got It Going On

by izzbelle



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Dean is really young when they first meet, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Porn, Top!Cas, Vanilla, babysitter, bottom!Dean, large age difference, neighbor, not underaged, what is plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-17 07:26:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10589241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzbelle/pseuds/izzbelle
Summary: When Dean was 15, his parents up and moved his family from Lawrence Kansas to a home closer to John's next post. The only issue was that Mr Novak would not be coming with them, and Dean really liked Mr Novak and his pies, and stubble, and bright ocean eyes. This is the story of how sometimes, stupid first loves don't fade.





	

Mr Novak's really got it going on

Part 1

Dean Winchester was not one to back down. Mary used to say he crawled out of the cradle ready to take on the world. At four years old he woke his parents up when something funny smelling started coming from the electrical room. The family cleared out pretty quick and the fire damaged only part of the house. At ten years old, he pulled his little, not so little, brother out of Clinton Lake, patting him on the back until he coughed out the greenish State Park water. So when at twelve years old, his favourite neighbour slash babysitter Castiel Novak, caught the flu, Dean in a very dashing fashion was determined to rescue him from immanent death.   
“Mr Novak, if you don’t drink the soup mom and I made for you, you might not get better.” Dean pouted from behind outstretched hands holding a large container of cooled chicken noodle soup. The boy’s eyebrows furrowed over worried green eyes. He hugged the soup to his chest and looked around, dropping his voice to a whisper, “It’s a Campbell secret recipe. And I’ll tell you if you take it.” 

Dean could see the older man’s blue eyes soften. A smile leaking from the corners of his mouth, he reached out and grabbed the dish, “Well Dean, I’m afraid that’s not an offer I can refuse. Would you like a bowl too, while we discuss this mystery ingredient? Just don’t get within sneezing range.” Lit by the dim light of Castiel’s porch light, Dean’s eyes glittered. He could feel a grin quickly stretching across his still chubby face. 

“Aw you’re awesome Cas! I’ll tell mom I’m staying over for dinner.” Thirty minutes later the two were sat at Mr Novak’s small wooden table, dipping into the warm broth, discussing how Mary’s secret certainly laid in her carrot chopping skills. Dean frowned looking down at his bowl. He felt a little guilty about the entire situation. “Cas…” 

“Mr Novak, Dean.” Castiel softly reminded, “What’s wrong?” The kind man across from Dean frowned, his face not old enough to hold any wrinkles. 

“There’s no secret recipe. I jus’ wanted you to eat the soup, because if you don’t, you might not get better n’ if you don’t get better you won’t be able to babysit Sammy n’ me, and Becky’s weird n’-“ Dean stopped, blushing, eyes still fixed on a floating noodle. “Sorry Cas.”

Castiel sighed, standing up from his chair, wood scraping the worn linoleum tile, walking over to the second chair. Dean looked up from his stare fixed on the grain of the wood, surprised to find Mr Novak holding an empty bowl, the other hand ruffling his sandy brown hair, “It’s okay Dean, the soup was great, but I’m not going anywhere.” Dean felt a surge of affection for the older man, “And, I promise I won’t let Becky bore you to death,” He laughed in his gravely voice, sending the boy home for bed before it got too late. Dean, of course, took 10 minutes to check Cas’ house for monsters, because, “you just can’t be careful enough Mr Novak.” Castiel had followed around dutifully, and hopefully, Dean thought, he didn’t see the blush on his freckled cheeks after the little boy insisted on a hug goodbye. 

Part 2

Castiel Novak, babysitter and neighbour extraordinaire, found Dean and his constant requests for pie and company in Star Wars marathons, with all his freckles and cracking voice, if not cute, very amusing. Cas of course, always did comply with his (nothing short of) demands, because all the flattery of “you make the best pie ever, Mr Novak.” was too hard to resist. Of course he should have seen the warning signs, but at first, it was not fair to turn down the opportunity to make friends with his neighbours, even if it was through his babysitting. Dean continued coming over most days, even if Castiel got ill, with various excuses. A year into his time in Lawrence, Cas was beginning to notice the effects of excessive pie eating and couch marathons. A soft pudge around his middle awoke him to the fact that, yeah, he probably did like the little Dean Winchester’s company.

A week later, he found himself wedged between the Winchester brothers on their old leather sofa that he swore smelled like it used to sit in the middle of a car shop. They were watching a re-run of Star Wars for the hundredth time. “Shhh, Cas, you’re breathing too loud, Yoda is about to use the force on the X-wing.” Dean grumbled, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on the dancing light in front of them. 

“Be quiet, you’re ruining it Dean!” Sammy whispered angrily. 

“You’ve seen this a thousand times Sammy, shut your cake-hole.” Dean threw back. Cas couldn’t bring himself to settle the brothers, they never in actuality fought; he was more of the watch and learn type of guardian, anyway. 

Castiel is tucking Dean into bed, later that night, something Dean insists on with a red tinge to his cheeks every time Castiel comes over to watch the brothers, “G’night Cas.” Castiel is about to correct Dean with a stern “Mr Novak” but the words die in his throat, the younger boy is already mumbling, halfway to sleep. He’s walking towards the door when a faint sleep heavy voice floats towards him, “Your eyes real pretty Mr Novak, jus’ blue like d’ocean.” Castiel shuts the door softly. Mary hugged him goodbye and John clasped his hand in thanks. He feels uncomfortable. But mainly, he feels uncomfortable with how little he is uncomfortable. It’s nothing sexual he tells himself. He knows this for sure. The issue is that it is more than him simply being fond of the little boy with a big midwestern drawl, and it was something unknown. Actually, that was a lie, he knew exactly what it was, and it scared the shit out of him. Dean Winchester was, at his tender age, Castiel the Cradle Robber’s friend. He always could count the people he kept close to his heart on one hand, for the majority of his life. In the past few years of the Winchester’s loitering in his peripheral vision have at least doubled this total. Castiel was a librarian, more interested in reading the books than caring for them, keeping his existence in the library to a minimum. A high school record full of unfulfilled counselling requests from concerned teachers and more than one pound of household issues, he decided it was for the best to take the path to a quiet life. Dean was in short loud, righteous, and above all, a stone in Castiel’s still, still lake. Castiel didn’t know how to handle this or that his, arguably best friend, was a teenager. Should he be afraid that he was probably walking the line of a paedophile? Yes. Was he? No. So instead of overthinking, like he did with everything in his life, Cas was going to bask in the warm glow of the Kansas sun that Dean Winchester was.

This revelation came and, because God was not in fact, a kind omnibenevolent father, sixth months later he hears that the Winchesters are moving to Colorado, closer to John’s new job. He is upset (more like close to distraught but he won’t allow himself to admit this). They were, are like family to him after all. Castiel thus decided he would give them the recipes to each of their favourite of his pies, which he had sneaking suspicions Dean would eat all himself anyway. It left a slight bitter taste in his mouth, typing up the small writing from his food journal. He swallowed the taste and reprimanded himself; he was getting too sentimental. He would see them again. He was halfway through scripting Dean’s apple pie, when there is a loud banging on the door. Cas gets up to open it, but the pounding doesn’t stop until the wood swings open, a slightly less lanky fifteen-year-old Dean Winchester stumbling into his living room. His impossibly green eyes are wide with panic. “Cas.” He takes a step back and smooths his black t-shirt, schooling his expression. Castiel opens his mouth to greet him, but Dean speaks first. “Mr Novak, I have to tell you something and it’s important.” He scuffs the edge of his boot on the floor, looking up at Castiel a wild look returning to his steady gaze. “We’re movin’ n’ I won’t be able to see you cause I’m goin’ to some stupid school dad says is the shit, n’ the thing is Cas, I kinda got this thing for ya,” A sweet, hopeful smile manages to survive amongst all the hormones Dean currently has an ocean of, “I was wondern’ if you’d like to give me a kiss goodbye.” 

Mr Novak stands by the door for a minute, something warm and wrong filling him up. He doesn’t speak soon enough, attempting to win over whatever sick feeling is weaving through him, and Dean’s shoulders slump as he starts his walk home, reading into Cas’ lack of response. “Dean.” It slips out of his mouth like black oil, far too easily, far to quick. Dean’s back stiffens slightly and he spins around, slowly approaching his favourite neighbour. 

“Yes?” Castiel can see the anxious tint to his breaking voice. Cas despite all his better judgement, despite all his self-control, despite all his logic, cannot see the problem with giving his adorable, freckly, voice-cracking neighbour, Dean for fuck’s sake, a quick peck to the forehead. So he does and Dean sighs in resignation, but wraps his arms around Castiel’s middle. “I will see you later Cas.” His voice weavers around the last syllables but Castiel doesn’t doubt it. 

Part 3

Castiel was getting older. He could feel it in the way his fingers got stiff after hours of digging in the backyard. In the way his back got a little creaky after planting his new hydrangea bushes. He could tell, because every time Balthazar and Gabriel, the closest of his friends, came over for a cup of coffee after his shift at the library, they teased him about being three years to thirty. They were due for joe that night, but Fridays meant that Gabriel put more whiskey than coffee into the communal pot and Balthazar ending up with less clothes on than a stripper in Vegas. (But I get overheated when I’ drunk Cassie, don’t tease me. Gabriel would butt in at this point with a, it’s a condition, be kind Cassie boy.)

A knock at the door saw Castiel up and opening the door for his friends. Swinging the old white wood open, he froze. Dean Winchester stood at the door, impossibly green eyes greener than ever, golden Kansas sun touched skin with a sprinkling of freckles frecklier than ever and an all-American grin plastered to his chiselleder face than ever. He had grown up better than Cas’ already high expectations. “Hey there, Cas.”

“Dean. This is a surprise?” Castiel swallowed, unsure if he had forgotten something as important as Dean Winchester coming to visit. His throat was drier than he remembered it being five minutes ago. 

“Yeah, yeah it is,” He looked down, scuffing his boot on the porch wood like he had almost 6 years ago. “I just thought- I just remembered, I promised to catch up again, and I didn’t have your number so…” Dean looked up, the bravado lost to something more nervous playing in them.

“No! No, this is amazing-good-fine. Yes, come in of course. I have two friends coming over later but I can reschedule with them if you want to stay for dinner?” Castiel didn’t know why he was offering to cancel his plans for a boy, a man, he corrected himself, he hadn’t seen in 6 years decided to show up on his front steps unannounced. 

Dean smiled softly, and ducked his head in a very unDean like manner, “S’okay Cas, I’ll leave before they get here. I-, yeah.” He looked at Castiel like he had something important to say. Cas allowed him time to get there, the two locking eyes for a few seconds. 

“After we catch up, I’d like very much for you to meet Gabriel and Balthazar.” And with that Castiel took the duffel bag Dean carried, stuffing it into the coat closet and calling over his shoulder for Dean to make some coffee, “You know where the kitchen is.” A smile ghosted over his face as he turned to grab his glasses from the den. 

Part 4

Cas squinted and tilted his head to the side, inviting Dean to stay later, affection swimming in his still, unsettlingly blue eyes. It was at this moment something disgustingly warm decided to crawl out of Dean’s chest, which hadn’t used its legs in years. So when Castiel Novak ordered Dean to make a pot of coffee, the only thing, which was capable of coming out of his mouth was a small, broken “Sure thing.” The truth was, Dean didn’t know why he was here other than that he happened to be a couple hours outside Lawrence Kansas. It had been years since he last set eyes on Castiel Novak. It wasn’t the wet dreams his mind stopped providing for him only two years after not seeing the man who starred in every last one of them. It wasn’t that Castiel had been the best damn neighbour Dean has ever had. It wasn’t that Cas was part of Dean’s family and family wasn’t forgotten. Not because Mr Novak had been Dean’s first crush either. And it definitely wasn’t that every fucking time Dean tried to pick up a one night stand at the local dive, they ended up having inadequately blue eyes and the wrong shade of deep brunette hair. Charlie wouldn’t let that one go. She noticed after a critical look to the third walk of shame’s face, a month after they moved in together. So yeah, he thought the best explanation was that he just happened to be in Kansas and in need of some coffee and pie. You know who made good goddamn coffee n’ pie? Castiel Novak did. 

Two hours later, Dean was sat in rather than on, Castiel’s disgustingly 60s patterned sofa (which in credit to him, he defended valiantly with a, it’s vintage, Dean) cornered by a short mobster looking man-child, and a Brit with a V-neck shirt down to his stomach. “I didn’t know Cassie had it in him!” The short one wasn’t shy.

“Talk about thirty flirty and thriving,” Kind Edward III was putting his opinion in apparently, “Aren’t you too young for our friend?” Dean blustered trying to get a word in before, “Oh my Lord! Gabriel, Cassie must have picked him up from the library, he’s only in secondary school!” Dean shook his head opening his mouth again to intervene before things got to messy, but Castiel chose the moment to burst in through the kitchen door. Short and tall clammed up. 

“Gabriel, Balthazar,” His eyes dart suspiciously between the two, “This is my old friend Dean Winchester, please be civil, I was only getting the coffee pot.” Dean didn’t think civil was going to happen. 

“Winchester? As in, next door neighbour Winchester?” Gabriel says, unwrapping a caramel he had apparently been hiding up his ass and popping it into his mouth. “Nice to meet ya, I’m Gabe, also known as tall, long and handsome,” He offers his hand, “I go by both.” 

Dean reaches for the hand, his own coming back slightly stickier than before, at an unusual loss for words. “Ignore him. Balthazar.” The ‘classy’ one raised his hand. “And yes, I am currently ass deep in our dear Castiel.” Cas hadn’t mentioned a relationship. Castiel also did not have any pictures of them in his house. Gearing churned slowly but surely in his mind. They stopped. Conclusion? He has made a mistake coming here. Something dangerously close to panic flushes through Dean, his eyes going wide and a blush creeping close to his collar. Dean mutters something with lots of curses involved, Castiel jumps to protect his reputation and Balthazar, the bastard, leans towards Dean. “Gotcha,” Gabriel chuckles knowingly. 

Dean and Castiel both lean back, dropping flailing limbs to their sides. Dragging his hands down his face, Castiel to his credit handles the situation well, “Gabriel could you go into the kitchen and get the whiskey please?” Gabriel is more than happy to comply and the assembly is happy to partake. 

“And then Cas shows up in front of our house butt naked and covered in bees. Something my youthful eyes will forever be scared by. He says it was his first time blackout drunk, but I don’t believe him!” Dean finishes the story, Gabe and Balthazar on the verge of crying stooped over in hysterics, Castiel grumpily trying to hold back one of those rare smiles. Dean squeezes his shoulder, “You really were the best Cas,” Castiel looks at where Dean’s hand rests on his olive skin, and Dean sees his eyes follow the touch to his face. Castiel’s alcohol softened gaze flicks down for a second. Dean flicks his tongue out to wet his lips. Castiel’s shoulder is warm and inviting and his breath smells like coffee and heady alcohol, so naturally, Dean leans in. 

“Hey you two.” Dean backs out as quick as be went it, Gabriel and Balthazar are looking at them with glassy eyes, “Get a room, the rest of us are trying to flirt in peace.” 

Dean’s partially tipsy brain doesn’t take responsibility for what slips out of his mouth, a dangerous lopsided grin attaches itself to his face “I’ve been flirting for 10 plus years, this room is mine.” Gabriel and Balthazar let the comment slip, laughing crudely and continuing their argument about French boob versus Chinese boob quality. 

He turns out to look Castiel, whose head is tilted to its typical 70 degree angle, inhumanly bright eyes looking straight through Dean’s bravado and whiskey crusted barrier. “Do you remember what you told me before you left town, Dean?” Castiel’s voice was light, Dean saw the older guy knew he was walking on shaky ground. But his eyes were like starlight and moonbeams had been trapped and his voice was like gravel and scotch had been mixed and his hands were like home. Maybe not so shaky. 

Part 5

Dean Winchester’s hands were up Castiel Novak’s shirt. Castiel Novak’s hands were firm on Dean Winchester’s ass. It was crowded bodies against the grain of closets Dean remembered from years of hide and seek, hot swollen mouths breathing shared air and desperate clutches onto each other’s shirts. Castiel pulled away as Dean slotted a leg between his own, fighting the urge to rut against the thick thigh. “You really want this...” Not so much a question. His blue eyes were blown, more black, “How long?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Cas flipped the position, two hands firm on Dean’s wrists, holding them from wandering over his ribs, more prominent then he remembered. A keening noise slipped from the younger man’s lips. Dean tried to flip them again, pressing his body in a hard flat line against Cas, feeling the heady length of his erection. “Jesus Cas, come on, please.” He breathed the words into the other mans mouth, in a softer kiss. 

Castiel sagged a bit, dropping his hands to his sides, holding Dean’s calloused palms. “I want to know, Dean. It’s important to me.” He leant in mouthing softly at the skin beneath Dean’s ear. “I want to know I’m not doing something wrong.” See, the thing about Cas was that no matter what he did, he did it for reasons he thought were right. If that meant burning the world down, Castiel Novak would be the one to light the fire if it was for the greater good. Dean, had for most of his life, been the greater good, and today was not an exception. 

Dean leaned more heavily into Cas, “Because I’ve been waiting ten fucking years to touch you like this. I didn’t even know if you’d want to, this was a fucking suicide mission. But you know what Mr Novak?” Castiel narrowed his eyes, something hot streaked down Dean’s back, “I’m ready for my grown up kiss now, Mr Novak.” He pushes out of Castiel’s weak grip and latches onto Cas’ lips, teeth clashing as Novak opens up for him nice and easy. Palming him through his slacks, Cas arches into Dean’s hand, a needy noise escaping from his swollen lips. Dean swallows the noise readily, because “God Mr Novak, I’ve been waiting so long for this,” He opens his eyes real wide as Cas leaves a trail of kisses down his stomach and shuffles his belt loose, because “Jesus Cas, been waiting for your perfect mouth on my cock so long.” Castiel doesn’t respond but Dean can see the desperate clutches he makes when he takes off his shirt, ripping the younger man’s off with it. He can see it in the way Novak captures his lip with rough teeth, breathing in the moans he forces out of Dean with the steady grind of his hips and eager tongue. He isn’t about to fuck a new and improved Winchester, but an old friend, long overdue for a visit. 

“Dean I need you in my bedroom or this is going to be over quickly.” He stands up from the scattering of dark marks left near Dean’s dusky treasure trail. Dean swallows, following the head of black, hand-fucked hair, tufts sticking up at strange angles from where rough fingers tugged. He tries to not think too hard about the fact he’s about to get fucked on the bed he’s been read bedtime stories to, on. He reminds himself he’s also come in his hand thinking about this bed and said bed owners. You win some you loose some. 

A hand reaches out from in front of him, pulling him forward and shoving him onto the bed. Castiel settles himself heavily in Dean’s lap, leaning forward, this forehead resting on Dean’s, he opens his mouth and green eyes widen, as the hand he hadn’t seen, snakes down to grab his ass and squeeze firmly. “Pants off. Now” They make some awkward shuffle in which Novak slips his slack off easily and Dean pulls some more, flashing a sheepish smile, because dammit, if Dean Winchester wanted his ass to look good, he was going to wear his tight jeans. Castiel looked down with his head in his hands, shoulders shaking slightly, “You’re very smooth Winchester.” His laugh was clear and when he looked up his grin was gummy and white and made his eyes light up all electric like, so naturally Dean’s heart hitched and his dick twitched. His jeans slipped off on cue, and Castiel’s expression darkened, electricity swamped by lust. 

Continuing his administrations on Dean’s stomach, Novak quickly discards boxers, a hot breath ghosting over Dean’s leaking cock. A whine wrenches itself out of his throat, “Fuck you Novak,” Cas looks up at Dean through his lashes with an honest to God confused expression, as per usual. Dean blushes at the scrutiny, “Tease.” Neither of them misses the starving edge to his words, but he’s grateful when the man doesn’t dwell. The head of dark hair goes lower, and he feels a smile laden kiss on his shaft before wet heat swallows him. His hands clenched to the sheets, Dean feels Cas hum around him, cheeks hollowing out. Stifling a loud noise threatening to spill from his mouth as his tip hits the back of Castiel’s throat, he threads his hand through the hair tickling his stomach; Dean tugs lightly on it after a few minutes. “Cas. Oh Jesus Christ Cas come here.” 

Castiel’s length leaks a small circle of dampness through his underwear, “You wanted your big boy kiss, Dean.” His tone is overly serious to be sarcastic. Dean throws his head back into the pillows behind them, letting out a large groan. He holds is tongue on a comment about just how long he has been waiting, hoping for the other man to be in this position, pupils blown, dick heavy in his boxers. Castiel tugs his shorts down, his hand wrapping around his own errection and Dean reaches forward for a kiss when he feels two slick fingers ghost over a sensitive area. 

A soft ‘oh’ breezes out of his mouth caught in a breath of air. His later attempts at breathing come out as ragged and shallow as said fingers push lightly into him, working the muscle into a hot slick burning sensation. Dean writhes on the bed, liberal with the amount of noise he makes, little gasps and hitched moans and words Castiel wouldn’t repeat in public. Dean doesn’t sit still, rocking back on Castiel’s fingers, needy noises punching out of his chest. Feeling something coil in his sternum, tight and demanding he growls, “Cas. Cas stop. I’m gonna come,” His voice a couple octaves out of his drawl he seemed to have developed. Castiel doesn’t say anything but where he had been gripping Dean’s thigh small blue marks were pressed into the pale skin. 

Cas wastes no time slicking his cock in something that smells vaguely like strawberries and honey. Dean only knows this after Cas offers his fingers to him, Dean wrapping his lips around them, sucking softly, eyes locked on Cas’. He pitches forward then, his hand a firm grip in Dean’s shoulder, back arched, Dean’s hands gliding over his spine’s little knobs. He nudges his tip into Dean, whose mouth is working over words he leaves unsaid. “Dean? Dean this is important.” The glazed over green eyes beneath him try to blink into attention, then Cas in the most typical Cas manner, smiting voice and all informs him that, “I’m going to fuck you until you’re screaming, Dean. And then you’re not going to run away.” Dean scrabbles at the man’s taught back some more and nods. He nods and pleads like a man dying of thirst being offered water. He nods and pleads like a man who’s been in love for fucking years, is about to get what he wants. 

Like Dean has done all these years, Castiel keeps true to his promise and fucks Dean until he is yelling out his name loud enough for the neighbours to hear. He fucks him until the only words Dean can remember exists are God, Cas and a selection of curse words. It is not surprising when tears prick his eyes and an especially bold one drops down his freckled cheek, but Cas just wipes it away with his thumb like he has a thousand times. However, what is surprising is that Dean doesn’t bolt in the morning, or the morning after that, or the week after, or three years after he decided to show up on Mr Novak’s front porch. In fact, Dean and Castiel are so surprising, that John Winchester in all his glory almost passes out when he is told of their relationship. But all is good and all is wonderful because Dean likes Cas with his obsession with the nesting habits of Italian honeybees and black drip coffee and incredibly gravelly pillow promises. And Cas likes Dean with his Baby and freckles and passion for greasy dinner burgers with a side of warm apple pies. You could even say they loved them.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration from an unknown lovely soul I encountered years ago. Thanks. This is a little ficlet based off of a cute summary I read ages ago. I think this must have been the first prompt that flung me into the world of Destiel porn. It is about four years old and I have no clue who wrote it but if you have an idea just tell me.


End file.
